Showing Results 1 - 2 of 2
Many years later, in London, Father was once again revealed to me in that long-ago evening in Ramat Poriya, sitting on the fence with the Kinnereth lying like a carcass behind him, but this time the…
Arnold Böcklin is dead—yet who among you knew that he lived? If I were to tell you that he was the man who knew how, with paintbrush dipped in colors upon a piece of canvas, to shake every heart…